Estimate
by ThatClutzsarahh
Summary: He was capable of anything. Capable of everything. Spoilers 3.12 Reciprocity.


**and that episode pretty much gave me the chills. Anyway, here are a few drabble scenes from the episode. In my opinion it is the degradtion of Peter's mind as he spirals out of control. **

**T for definite language.**

**i own nothing.**

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It was bigger than he thought, or he had imagined, and as he stared at the looming device he felt ill all over. This was to be him, his fate, and somehow he were to make everything right. What a sick joke someone had been playing on all of them. Walter stands a few feet from him as he just stares, eyes glued to the shiny black pieces as if he were looking into the love of his life's eyes, if he were looking at Olivia. He wants nothing more than to caress the black metal under his fingers and suddenly Peter feels dizzy and giddy all at the same time. Computers go static and this move. Metal on metal is scraping and his ears are humming with the blood his heart is pumping. His nose tickles and he feels the blood on his fingers and suddenly it is only terror consuming him.

The machine scrapes and bags and screeches to a halt, the perfect shape of him, fighting his body so perfectly he could see himself in it. The thing calls his name almost audibly and Peter feels a sudden power rush to his head. He could end everything right here, right now. There is the gentlest of voices in his ear but the white static drowns it out. Olivia doesn't matter anymore. Compared to the shine of the machine and it's exotic form, he'd fall in love with it over her any day. But it is his fathers voice that brings him back down to reality, a simple "Son your nose is bleeding" and he's back to being grounded, tethered to reality and to the unbearable blonde next to him. he takes one last look at the machine before being ushered away.

He swears he hears it call to him, telling him _I'll see you again, soon. _And Peter finds himself hoping, wishing, wanting it to be so.

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He didn't do anything wrong. That man, no that thing, deserved it. He held secrets to Peter's future and he didn't even know the man. The shapeshifter wasn't phased when he arrived. It was like he didn't even _care._ Like he knew, that Peter would not be _capable_ of murder. But Peter wasn't Peter anymore, and he was capable of anything and everything. But that data disk had nothing for him. Nothing. Peter had just killed someone for nothing. He killed them just to _kill_ them. He was a cold-blooded murder.

But cold-blooded murders don't come home to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He wasn't a murder. He was a hero. He was doing them a service. The less shapeshifters, he figures, the better. As he spread peanut butter on his sandwich, Walter appears around the corner and he just looks at Peter like he were a little kid, caught up too late. Peter smiles because he'll never know. He'll just never understand.

"Did you just come in?"

And the lies just fall from his lips.

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Everything would just be so much easier if Olivia would stay mad at him. But she is a woman, a beautiful one at that, and she can never stay decided on one thing. So why should how she treats him be any different? It's like literally flipping a light switch with her, one minute she wants silence and the next she's practically ripping at her own clothes so he could see her. And he doesn't mind because that's view he'd enjoy.

He's sick and he can feel it, but that shapeshifter tells him he's okay. But Peter won't strangle him there in front of everyone. He'll follow him home and take his shots there because that's what he needs. This man has answers, Peter is sure, and he needs them. The Data chip in his back is what he wants and he'll extract it on his own time, search on his own time, and he'll get answers. Then maybe Olivia will decided that he's worth the time of day all the time. Wait, what?

She'd shoot him if she knew he was a killer. A cold blooded murder. She wouldn't commend him. She'd shoot him. Or she'd laugh at him. Peter Bishop, a foolish man, a cold-blooded killer? That thought would be ridiculous to her. Yes, come to think of it now, Olivia Dunham would laugh at him if he told her. Peter wasn't capable of that he could hear her say. The blood would boil in his veins and he'd curl his hands into fists. _Wasn't capable of it_. He was capable of anything, of everything. But maybe it'll break her. That would be the worst. To see her shatter into a thousand pieces in front of him would surely cause his own destruction. So he won't tell her. She won't know.

One lie to protect her, or was he protecting himself? Peter didn't know the difference.

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Embarrassed. Humiliated.

He was all of everything. He knew, he just _knew_ what was in those files. He didn't want her reading them. He didn't even want to read them. If she were to read those, she would crawl away forever and be out of his grasp. She was already out of his grasp. After all, he thought bitterly, who could love a murder like him? No one.

No he's not a murder. They aren't even human. He's not even a killer. And he could certainly pass that lie detector machine. As they watch the tests continue Peter thinks they'll ever guess him, they'll never know. He'll continue out his mission and no one will know. He won't get caught. He's too smart to get caught. _But Faux-Livia_ _caught you_. No, shut the fuck up, he tells himself. He was uncatchable. No one would have ever caught her. But he did. He was invincible.

He was invincible. He knew the orders from the other side without ever having to know them really. No shapeshifter could harm him. If they were from over there, they _needed_ Peter alive to power the machine. And they knew that too. That's why none of them attacked him. His job became easier because of it. He couldn't die, he was too important. No one could kill him.

"Peter."

Olivia could kill him. All she had to do was turn her eyes and smile.

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Walter has seen a great many horrifying thing. But he could not fathom the feeling of honest terror that gripped him now as he looked at Peter. The gleam that sparkled in his eyes was nearly primal, completely animalistic and as he stood up in carnage of dismembered fingers and mercury and blood that was on the floor Walter looked on in horror. The most terrifying thing he's ever encountered was looking at his own and not recognizing him.

Peter was a monster.

Walter was an abstract man, capable of almost literally wrapping his mind around something and squeezing it to death, milking all information from it. But he could not fathom this, he could not understand. His son was a monster, a terrifying _sociopath_ as he tried to tell Walter he wasn't doing anything wrong. And Walter couldn't tell him anything because he couldn't imagine this. His worst nightmares seemed like dreams now. Someone who was similar in DN _fucking_ A, a _son, _a murder? A cold-blooded murder?

"They're not even human, Walter," Peter had said to him. Walter stared at him. He wanted nothing more than to say to him he was wrong.

_You're not human son._

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He could look at him all he wanted, but there wasn't a thing in his mind that told him he did anything wrong. Olivia looked like she was _fucking_ oblivious in the middle of the living room. Because she was. She was fucking oblivious to him. Well if that is what she wants, then she will get it. But then she sees it, then awkwardness hanging and she leaves. She doesn't even say goodbye to him. She doesn't even give a _shit._

For a second she freezes at the door and he thinks the façade is finally up, that she finally gets _it_ and that she'll shoot him on the spot and he won't care because he doesn't _care_. But she turns and looks at him in all the same moment and he thinks for sure he's been caught now. Maybe if he distracts her long enough he can get his own gun from the bag by the stairs. But she doesn't reach for the gun and she doesn't shoot. She looks down and up.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

_Oh sweetheart, if you only knew._

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and reviews yes?_


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